There were many things to be done. It would be another night without sleep. First, a call to SHAPE at Mons to tell them about the Pino affair. Then he would telephone Thomas Marks in Heidelberg. Finding the professor could hardly present a problem, even for Marks. The schedule of trains arriving at Heidelberg that evening from Frankfurt could be easily obtained, and one or two men placed at the
Delvaux smiled a small, tired smile. Once again, the harried professor might have a surprise encounter with strangers in his room. This time, however, he would have no cause for complaint. Until Gideon Oliver was separated from the vital, deadly information he carried, his life was worth nothing. And the closer Operation Philidor’s deadline came, the more danger he would be in.
AT TEN-THIRTY THAT NIGHT Gideon lay naked on his side, languorous and content. He was moving his hand down Janet’s bare back in long, slow strokes, starting with firm pressure on her hair, then down the length of her torso, and ending with a gentle caress of her firm, smooth buttocks. Janet was sighing deep in her throat.
“I didn’t know human beings could purr,” he said dreamily.
“Was that me?” she said.
“Yup.”
“I guess they can, then,” she said, and made the sound again. “Ah, Gideon, I’m so glad you’re here, it’s scary. I don’t like liking anyone this much.”
Gideon had told her the entire story, from the first solicitation by NSD to Monkes’s death and the theft of the radio. Afterwards, although they had made love earlier, they did so again, with a fierce, almost desperate tenderness on Janet’s part.
At one point during their lovemaking, she had sobbed—a single, gasping sob, like a man’s—and said with anguish, “They could have killed you,” her voice muffled by his chest.
“What?” he had said.
“Nothing,” she replied, but he had heard her, and his heart had constricted with pleasure and worry.
“Gideon,” she said, “how did you get here so early? I thought your train wasn’t due until eleven.”
“I sat next to an army captain from USAREUR on the plane. His wife met him at the airport and they gave me a lift right to the door. That reminds me,” he said, beginning to pull his arm from underneath her, “I’d better go down and register. I came straight to your room without stopping at the desk.”
“You don’t really want to get out of bed, do you? I’m not going to let you sleep in your room tonight anyway, so why don’t you register in the morning?”
“But—”
“This way, you get the continued uninterrupted pleasure of my wondrously beautiful body.”
“Well…”
“Plus the immediate gratification of any perverse wishes you’d care to make known.”
“Well…”
“Plus you don’t have to pay them six dollars for the night.”
“Now
“I thought you’d think so,” she said. Then, just as they were falling asleep again, she added, “I’ll only charge you three.”
“Do you charge extra for perverse wish gratification?”
“First two are on the house.”
“Deal,” he said, and fell happily asleep.
Forty feet down the hall in Room 15, Tom Marks was staring gloomily at his reflection in the mirror. He could already see the bags under his eyes, and wasn’t the left one getting a little bloodshot? He looked at his watch: nearly 2:00 A.M., and he had to get up at 6:00. He was a man who needed his sleep. If he didn’t get enough, it made his stomach queasy all day and he couldn’t eat right. Even if he left right now and slept on the cot at the office, he’d only get three hours’ sleep. How was he supposed to function on that? His work was very demanding, very detailed.
Damn. Where was Oliver? The Madrid plane had been on time and Oliver had been on it; they knew that. But the 11:00 train had arrived in Heidelberg without him, and the next one wouldn’t be in until 9:20 A.M. He hadn’t stayed over at the Rhein-Main Air Base Hotel, and so far the Polizei hadn’t turned him up at any of the hotels in Frankfurt.
There was something fishy about that smart-mouthed professor, even if Delvaux didn’t think so. One way or another, everything he touched got screwed up, including tonight. Delvaux had made it sound simple: “When he arrives, you will obtain the book from him and take it at once without opening it to Major Lauffer for deposit in the maximum-security vault.” Simple, except what if he didn’t arrive?
This was ridiculous. He was not a field operative used to all-night stakeouts. He was an official; he needed his sleep, and who knew when, if ever, Oliver would come? And when he finally came, he would naturally be without the book, and with some fantastic story of how he’d been set upon by Spanish pirates who had stolen all his jockey shorts at saber point.
And they’d check it out, and it would be true.
There was really no point in continuing to wait. He might have some idea of what to do, had Delvaux taken him into his confidence and told him what was so special about the book, but
